


Flowers

by Eggspelliarmus



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chocolates, Comic Sans - Freeform, Florist Newt, Flower Language, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, Valentine's Day, but he has got sexual impulse of a teen, graves is a grumpy old man, just classic valentine stuff, newt is so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:35:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9715637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggspelliarmus/pseuds/Eggspelliarmus
Summary: Percival Graves hates Valentine’s Days.No, to be precise, Percival Graves fucking hates Valentine’s Days. And yes, the plural is needed to emphasise his agony towards the cursed festival that he had put up with and unsurprisingly will continue to put up with for the remainder of his life.It all changes when an adorable florist bumps into his life and Percival falls head over heels for the young wizard.





	

Percival Graves hates Valentine’s Days.

 

No, to be precise, Percival Graves fucking hates Valentine’s Days. And yes, the plural is needed to emphasise his agony towards the cursed festival that he had put up with and unsurprisingly will continue to put up with for the remainder of his life.

 

Curse those lovebirds who are too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throat which, to Percival, is an blatant violation to passerby’s’ human rights and causes severe damage to his mental stability. Not only it appears to be an unreasonably obscene action and is basically pornographic in the director’s eyes, but the worst of all being the fact that they are in fact blocking his road to Woolworth Building.

 

Curse those bundles of red roses which look so pretty and delicate. He wonders why someone would enjoy receiving plants – Fucking flowering plants, for Merlin’s sake! They die easily and are fragile as an infant’s neck, so easily snapped into half – as presents. Whoever thought flowers would be a pleasing gift idea must either be out of their mind or was just plainly so scrapped of cash that they decided to randomly dig up some plants as presents.

 

Curse the giggling girls who are dancing around waving the Valentine’s Day cards sent by their sweethearts. What they are doing is in fact affecting the working atmosphere of the MACUSA! Ignoring work is a sin as severe as espionage or murder – alright he might just be exaggerating a tiny bit but to Percival, it is outrageous to see his aurors and workers ditching work for the festive spirit. Percival grits his teeth as he storms by Picquery’s gleefully giggling blonde secretary who is literally embracing the bundle of red roses. She can as well kiss the petals. The director rolls his eyes. A bunch of love-struck idiots.

 

Percival initially thinks he can hide in his office until the dreadful day is finally over and only come out after midnight when the street is no longer full of idiots in love. With the city full of empty streets all to himself, he can come home in peace without disturbance of those airheads blinded by love.

 

But things never go according to his plan.

 

You may probably think that may not be as bad as he thinks. He is just behaving like the inner drama queen that he is and is overreacting to things around him – but no.

 

Who is the cursed idiot who has such a terrible taste in decoration and office design, bad enough to decide to put a damn bright pink banner that reads Happy Valentine’s Day <3 (Yes, with the <3\. Percival cannot believe his eyes. ) written in silver glittery letters – and for God’s sake, why is the font Comics Sans? They are aurors responsible for upholding justice of the New York City, not five-year-old writing about princesses and unicorns– With laces and tiny pink hearts dotted here and there, on the main entrance to the Department of Magical Security.

 

What the fuck.

 

Just when Percival thinks that the office cannot look worse than with a blasted pink banner hanging from the ceiling, he sees the heart-shaped boxes of chocolates from Madame Le Gall’s Shop of Desserts – the wizarding world’s favourite sweet shop and has already been flooded with lovestruck wizards choosing truffle chocolates for their beloved ones for literally days before Valentine’s Day.

 

Percival certainly does not obtain the information that it is more packed than sardines in No-Maj canned food in Madame Le Gall’s Shop of Desserts these days because he had paid quite a number of visits to the shop itself glaring – looking at the couples with jealousy and hatred welling in his eyes. Of course he was not yearning for a romantic partner, what do you think he is? He is the damn Director (with the capital D) , not some of those young airheaded and stupid girls who are trying to marry themselves off before thirty as if they were food with an expiry date.

 

“Boss, we’ve got a box of chocolates for you too!” noticing Percival’s curious (more likely murderous) glance towards the heart-shaped boxes on top of everyone’s table, Auror Miller yells at the director, “All of the dark chocolates in that box are heart in shape!”

 

“Yeah boss!” Auror Reyna cries out between bites of chocolates, his voice muffled by the food that is stuffed in his cheeks, “I heard that dark chocolates help to improve your sex life. Make sure you eat some before you bang your love tonight, boss!”

 

Trying to maintain his Zen and keeping his calm attire, Percival nods slowly and walks towards the door to his office without uttering a single word, pretending that he has not heard his men wishing him luck during his late night bed activities that hopefully will take place tonight.  

 

Percival has to control his sudden urge to strangle Auror Phan when he witnesses the man, dressed up as Cupid, shooting arrows at literally everyone in this room (except Percival of course), parading through the office like a kindergartener instead of an adult auror that he is expected to behave like, as the director closes the door, shutting the mental scarring image, as well as the pink, love-fueled world of Valentine’s Day behind the office door.

 

He maybe the director of the Department of Magical Security, and without doubt has the power and the right to stop everyone from celebrating the silly, commercial-driven festival, but he is not Satan. Percival realizes that his aurors had gone through a lot during his abduction by Grindelwald, and they had suffered a lot when Grindelwald assigned them a ridiculous amount of work, asking them to complete even his share of work. It is little wonder that they didn’t die of overwork when Percival finally makes his return.

 

They deserve a break, and Percival can sure as hell endure this inferno for the sake of the mental health of his men. It will be just a day of horror and torture, and that is all. The director sits down before his desk, sighing at the sight of the neon pink chocolate box placed on top of his mountain of documents, the sparkling lip-shaped logo on the box blowing him kisses. He winces, as he sees cheesy, almost dirty food-related pick-up lines dancing across the lid of the box.  Madame Le Gall obviously is creative when it comes to packaging. “If you were a steak you would be well done”? What the heck.

 

Percival glances at the box of chocolates for a short period of time, before deciding to put it away. Why eat chocolates that give him an enhanced sex life when his sex life is basically inexistent? Ironic.

 

 

 

Percival’s anger will not be settled even after tearing the guts of every auror in his department out and murder ten men. Who on Earth is that cursed, retarded idiot that consider playing love songs at the top volume and using the public address system to make it heard in literally every room the best idea ever? By every room, Percival really means every single fucking room in the building- including the toilet, what the hell.

 

He initially plans to hide in the toilet before his ears bleed of overstimulation of his sensory hair cells due to the irritatingly annoying and loud love songs blasting at his ears and wet sloppy kiss noises that can be heard anywhere anytime – Merlin’s beard, they are adults, not hormone-driven adolescents experimenting sex with their first loves, have some control over their dicks - but he decides to abort the idea when he sees love poems glued on the mirror of the toilet. He has to suppress his urges of tearing the poem written nicely – thanks God it isn’t Comic Sans again but just neat cursive handwritings – on the pierce of paper sprayed with perfume from the mirror.

 

“ _Roses are red, Violets are blue_ ” your ass. Storming out of the toilet, Percival sneers. It is more like “ _Roses are red. So is your blood. Violets are blue. Your bruises are too_ ” to him seeing how badly he wishes to murder someone.

 

Annoyed by the love poems and the fact that even the director of the Department of Magical Security cannot find a safe haven somewhere in this stupid office or in this damn building, Percival basically marches through the corridor without paying any attention to anything in front of him or passing by him, causing two auror interns to flinch away to clear the path for the patently angered director, not wanting him to unleash his anger on them, until he finally bumps into someone.

 

“Ouch!”

 

The person that he bumps into yells in pain as the bundles of flowers in his embrace falls down and hit the carpeted ground with a muffled thump. Red roses and green leaves flash in front of Percival’s widened orbs, revealing the equally shocked freckled man behind the bundles of flowers as they falls onto the floor. His brownish-blonde bangs hid the majority of his face, so his facial features cannot be clearly seen.  Yet judging from the sapphire blue eyes that peer out from behind the lock of hair and the faint blush on the pale cheeks of the man, Percival can tell that he is handsome – no, beautiful would be the suitable adjective.

 

“I-I’m terribly sorry- “the man’s rosy lips part and his silver voice tumbles out from his parted lips. He has a cute British accent – not that Percival will admit to any living soul that he finds this stranger’s accent adorable – but truth to be told, Percival does find the young man aesthetically appealing by all social standards.

 

“It’s alright. I wasn’t looking after all,” Percival finds himself smiling – Oh God he actually smiles at someone that is not his mother instead of sending death glares at him. That’s a miracle, as magical as Picquery suddenly decides to stop bugging him to stop working overnight -  at the young man, apologizing already before he realizes it, as he picks up the bundles of flowers from the ground and hand them to the man, “I hope I didn’t damage any of your flowers.”

 

The man looks at the bundles of flowers and shakes his head, signalling Percival to remain rest-assured that he has not caused any damage to the flowers. Percival realises that the stranger is wearing a black apron with words “Queenie’s Flower Shop” printed on it and carries the name tag “Newt Scamander” on the left chest region.

 

“I’m sorry but I should really get going,” the man flashes him a quick and timid smile; “We’ve got loads of orders today. You know, typical Valentine’s Day. People are crazy with flowers. ”

 

Percival finds his eyes glued to the man even when he has turned on his heels and disappeared behind the corner of the corridor with a swish of his blue coat draped on his slender body.

 

Perhaps Percival will reconsider his opinions towards Valentine’s Day.

 

 

 

The wind chime gives out a soft jingle that nearly disappears in the crispy evening wind when Percival pushes open the door to “Queenie’s Flower shop”. The man behind the counter pokes his head from the baskets of hydrangea to greet him, and his lips quickly curl up at the sight of Percival. Newt waves his wand at the basket of hydrangea that blocks his body, causing it to fly away to create space on the counter.

 

“Oh, it’s you, sir!” he greets the director cheerfully, “Looking for something specific for your girlfriend?”

 

Percival winces at the mention of the word girlfriend, and proceeds to the counter without sparing a single glance at the flowers around him. When his eyes refuse to leave the young wizard’s pretty face, the latter’s cheeks turns a deep scarlet under the intense stare. The blushing man quickly averts his eyes and finds a sudden interest in the mahogany table covered with petals and cut leaves.

 

“I’d like to buy a bunch of gloxinia and lavender rose,” Percival says, earning a soft gasp from Newt.

 

“Oh, not girlfriend, but someone you secretly admire? Love at first sight, how romantic!” Newt replies, as he pulls out a small card as well as a felt tip pen, “Name of the receiver?”

 

“Newt Scamander.”

 

“I-I’m sorry?” glancing at his name tag not-so-discretely, Newt asks. His face turns a deeper shade of red – more like maroon than scarlet this time.

 

“It’s for Newt Scamander,” Percival repeats himself, pronouncing Newt’s name as clear as possible so as to make the obnoxious man understand that he is confessing his love for him.

 

“Oh.”

 

The soft sound of reply is all that Percival can hear. The flower shop is so quiet that Percival can hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He has never been so nervous since he took his graduating exams at Ilvermorny, which determines his destiny. Percival bit his lips, already half expecting Newt to reject his blatant and sudden confession when he hears how Newt cold and distant Newt appears to be towards his confession. Newt’s gentle scribbling and his ragged breath are the only things that echo in the quiet shop.

 

“Sir, as the valued customer of our flower shop, I’d like to give you an additional bunch of flowers for free,” sneakiness shimmers in Newt’s sky orbs as he flashes a shy, quick smile at Percival, “It’s a bunch of ambrosia. Do you know what does ambrosia mean in flower language?”

 

Percival shakes his head.

 

“It means ‘your feeling is reciprocated’.”

 

 

 

Perhaps – no, Valentine’s Day is definitely not as horrible as he initially thought when you have finally met the one. Percival definitely needs to rethink his opinion towards this festival.

 

The director of the Department of Magical Security pops a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth, from the heart-shaped box that he has retrieved from his office.

 

The effects of dark chocolates may come in handy tonight.

He looks at the blushing man on his bed and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> But the author still fucking hate Valentine's Day screw it


End file.
